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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: VICTORY

OWEN

The arena is electric, the roar of the fans filling every corner. It’s the Night Hawks' home opener—the first game of the season, and my first official game with the team. I step onto the ice, my blades cutting through the chill, and take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves.

After our night together, I’ve been focused on Stacey, though we haven’t had much time alone since she’s been taking care of Millie and I’ve been busy getting ready for tonight. Thankfully, Millie’s all better—her fever broke and her sniffles have gone away—which is a huge relief. Now I can focus on hockey and this all too important night. I’ve played this game a thousand times, but tonight I feel like I have something to prove. I need to show that I belong here. That I can stand on my own two feet and that I don’t have to do everything for my stepfather’s benefit.

Warmups go smoothly, and while my nerves are humming, I focus on the puck, my stick, and my teammates. I steal a glance to the stands though, and spot Stacey. She’s standing near the team’s bench, clipboard in hand, looking focused and polished in her formal work attire. She’s paying attention to the team, her gaze moving across the ice like she’s studying every player, but all I can see is her. That sharpness in her green eyes, that poise—it’s intoxicating.

I meet her gaze as I skate by and shoot her a grin. She smiles back and I feel a surge of satisfaction and confidence rush through me.

Then I spot Millie, in a tiny Night Hawks hoodie, tucked a few rows up next to a girl with a pink bob who I assume is a babysitter. When Millie notices me, her grin spreads wide and she waves. Something about seeing her here—knowing she’s watching—makes my chest tighten in a way that’s really nice.

The game starts fast and hard. The visiting team, the Huskies, are as aggressive as we expected. They control the puck early, testing our defense with quick passes and sharp plays. I focus on my line, tracking the puck, reading the ice.

A few minutes into the first period, one of their forwards rockets a slap shot toward our net. Carson makes an incredible save, deflecting the puck to the corner, and I’m there to scoop it up. I’m humming with adrenaline, knowing that Stacey and Millie are watching me right now, and it makes me want to give this game everything I have. I skate hard, the ice vibrating under my feet as I weave past defenders, looking for an opening.

I pass to Jayce, who’s skating alongside me, and he takes a shot. It’s close—too close—but the Huskies’ goalie blocks it.

The second period is even tighter. I take more than one hit against the boards. My shoulder aches from a particularly nasty check, but I shake it off. There’s no time for pain.

We manage to tie the game with a scrappy rebound goal late in the period, and the crowd goes wild. I glance up at the stands again during the celebration. Millie jumps up and down, her little arms flailing with excitement. Stacey sits behind the team’s bench, cheering us on with a huge smile.

By the time we hit the third period, the score is locked at two-two, and the tension on the ice is palpable. Every pass, every hit, every shot is met with deafening cheers or groans from the crowd. I push harder, my lungs burning, my legs heavy, but I don’t stop. With less than a minute on the clock, our coach pulls us into a quick huddle during a timeout.

“All right, we’re running out of clock fast,” Coach barks. “We need this last play to carry us home, got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” echoes through the team.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Coach says as he draws on the little white board in his hand. “Jayce, you’re going to go wide here, and Owen, you’re going to come in tight here…”

I listen intently. The play he sketches is risky, but it’s our best shot. I nod, determination coursing through me.

Back on the ice, the puck drops, and the play begins. I position myself near the blue line, waiting for the right moment. The puck cycles between our forwards, drawing the defense in, and then it’s passed back to me.

I don’t hesitate.

I wind up and take the shot, the puck slicing through the air. Time slows as the puck glides past the goalie’s glove and into the top corner of the net.

The applause erupts in a wave that crashes over me. My teammates swarm me, shouting, slapping my helmet, pounding my back. I did it.

As we skate to the bench, I glance up at the stands again. Millie is on her feet, clapping furiously, her face shining with joy. Stacey is up and cheering as well, her professional facade slipping in the face of the stadium’s energy and celebration. I smile at both of them before zooming down the tunnel with my team.

In the locker room, the mood is just as ecstatic.

“That was a hell of a shot!” Jensen exclaims, pounding my shoulder. “Way to make an impression during your first game, man!”

“Thanks,” I chuckle, playing it cool. Inside, I’m so relieved I’m shaking.

“Fucking fantastic, dude!” Carson declares.

“You killed it, canuck,” Wilder agrees, as he moves past us.

“You went full-on Super Saiyan out there, dude!” Zander exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder.

Jayce high-fives me. “You’re a cold-blooded menace on the ice. I love it.”

I’m trying not to let all this praise go to my head, but it’s not easy. I feel incredible. Like I could do anything—walk on water, leap tall buildings, or even drive the original Rainbow Road in Mario Cart without falling off once.

The high of the win is still buzzing through me as I finish getting cleaned up and make my way out of the locker room. My body’s tired, but it’s the good kind of tired. The kind that comes from giving everything you’ve got and knowing it paid off.

I barely have time to take a breath before a tiny blur of red hair and excitement barrels into me.

“Owen! Owen!”

Millie flings her little arms around my waist and looks up at me with wide, shining eyes.

“You were so amazing!” she gushes, her words tumbling out so quickly I can barely keep up. “The way you skated and scored that goal! But you know… it could still be better.”

I laugh. “Better, huh? What would you change, Coach?”

She scrunches up her face in mock concentration. “Maybe spin around when you score next time. Or jump! That’d look so cool!”

I scoop her up, and she keeps rambling on about trick shots and cool moves as Stacey strolls up behind her. Stacey’s lips are pressed together, but I catch the faintest flicker of a smile before she clenches her jaw like she’s trying to hold it back.

Before I can even think about what it means, Millie tugs on my sleeve, demanding my attention again.

“Are you gonna come to my ice skating show?” she asks. “It’s next Friday, and I’ve been practicing so hard!”

How can I say no to those big eyes and that eager expression?

I grin. “Of course, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Millie squeals, throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug before Stacey steps forward, gently pulling her back.

“Okay, Millie, time to head home,” Stacey says softly. “Lilah’s waiting for you.”

Millie pouts but gives me one last hug before running off to join her pink-haired babysitter, who’s standing a little way down the corridor. Millie turns back to wave at me one last time before Lilah takes her hand and the two skip away together.

Once she’s gone, the air between Stacey and me shifts. She steps closer. Her arms are crossed, and her brow is furrowed.

“Can we talk?” she asks.

“Of course,” I reply, surprised.

She hesitates, her eyes darting down the hallway. “Not here, though.”

“Fair enough. How about we grab some food? I’m starving, and you know I’ve never been great at thinking on an empty stomach.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, and I see a flash of the girl I knew in high school. The one who was always quick to smile and laugh. Who would gaze up at me like I was her whole world.

Most of the time, she’s so different from that girl I used to know. She’s always holding herself in check, clinging to the structures she’s set up around her, as if afraid that if she lets go, she’ll lose everything she has. I don’t know if she really trusts anyone other than herself, and it guts me knowing I’m part of the reason she’s become so guarded. I want to help her get back to who she was… the happy, free-spirited girl who trusted me.

“I remember,” she says.

“Perfect,” I say, gesturing toward the exit. “Let’s go. My treat.”

We make our way out to the parking lot and drive separately to the restaurant, a burger place that Carson told me about. It’s a quiet, cozy place with nostalgic decor harkening back to the days of roadside diners and soda shops. We find a booth and Stacey sits across from me. A waitress comes by to take our orders and bring us water. Once she’s gone, I give Stacey my full attention.

“What’s up?”

I can’t stop taking in every detail of her expression and anxious behavior. The way her brows pull together slightly, the way she bites her lip. She’s nervous, and it makes me nervous too.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Owen, I need to talk to you about something.”

Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her hesitation. I lean forward, resting my arms on the table, trying to give her my full attention despite the anxiety bubbling in my chest.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my tone soft. “I’m listening.”

She takes a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “It’s about the letter. The one you left before you moved.”

My heart clenches. Of course, it’s about the letter. I knew this moment would come, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Before she can say more, the words spill out of me. “Stacey, I’m sorry.” My voice is firm but thick with emotion. “I was a kid, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to move. I was scared, and I felt completely powerless. I should have done better. I should have tried harder to reach out to you.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but I keep going, needing to get it all out before I chicken out. “That letter was a coward’s way out. I know that now, and back then, I… I let my stepdad control everything. I was so intimidated by him, by the way he just uprooted my life and acted like it didn’t matter. But I’m not that kid anymore. He doesn’t get to make decisions for me now.”

Her eyes glisten under the soft light, and I force myself to keep speaking, even as my chest tightens.

“I should have told him to shove it. I should have found a way back to you. I didn’t, and that’s on me. But Stacey...” I pause, running a hand through my hair, my voice softening. “I’m never going back to Canada. Not for him, not for anyone.”

Her expression shifts, the tension in her face giving way to something I can’t quite name. Relief? Understanding? Pain? Maybe all of it at once.

“Owen,” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, “you have no idea how much that letter hurt me. I thought?—”

“I want you to know something,” I interrupt gently, meeting her gaze. “Up in Canada, I thought about you every single day, knowing I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I never stopped thinking about you. Seeing you again now, I can’t help myself. I have to… I have to ask. Would you consider giving me another chance?”